Sherlolly Prompts
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: A collection of prompts sent to me on tumblr in celebration of 500 followers! I do not own the characters; Sir ACD and Moftiss/BBC do. p.s. feel free to send me prompts on tumblr (simplyshelbs16xoxo) or PM me on here!
1. Aubergine

**prompted by mel-loves-all on tumblr: Sherlock and Molly are dating and he finds it incredibly sexy that she loves to wear his shirts. Especially a particular purple one.**

* * *

The first time it happens, it takes him by surprise. He comes home from a case that took him out of London for a couple of days. Upon entering his bedroom, he finds Molly curled up atop the duvet wearing his aubergine button up as a nightie. Sherlock's breath hitches at the sight of her. He counts the number of breaths she takes in her sleep while cataloging the faint murmuring of his name from her lips. _She's so beautiful, sexy_ , he thinks. Carefully, he slips the duvet out from under her and covers her up before slipping into bed beside her. He smiles to himself when she inches her way over to lay her head on his chest, over his heart.

* * *

The second time, she's running late for work. Molly had forgotten to do laundry the night before and was fresh out of acceptable blouses, so she rummaged through the drawer in her dresser where Sherlock keeps his extra clothing and slips on his blue button up.

Greg, John and Sherlock are waiting for her in the morgue as she rushes in, completely flustered. His eyes lock on hers and then move down to acknowledge her choice of clothing. John and Greg, being witness to it all, noticed that the shirt was at least two sizes too big on her. Needless to say, they put two and two together. Sherlock cleared his throat when he finally got a hold of himself.

"Ah, Molly, nice of you to join us," he smirked.

* * *

The third time, she's curled up in his chair, reading a book by the fire. She's wearing jeans and his black button up. He walked into the flat with takeaway from Angelo's, setting it on the coffee table.

"Hello, Molly," he greeted her with a smile.

Looking up from her book, something about Jack the Ripper, she replied, "Hey you." She stood and made her way over to him. "You brought food, thank goodness."

"Of course I did," Sherlock stated. "Did you think I was going to let you starve?"

"Well, no," Molly responded. "At least I hope not." Her small laugh caused his heart to jump in the best way.

"I've noticed," he began with a smirk, "that you have an affinity for wearing my shirts." He kissed her as he guided her toward the sofa.

"Is that a problem?" she murmured between kisses.

"Absolutely not," he breathed out. "But I. Do. Prefer." Each word was punctuated with a kiss as he moved his lips down toward her neck. "The aubergine." She stopped him then, standing up and slinking into his room. Moments later, she appeared before him in his aubergine shirt.

"Better?" she asked, standing in front of the sofa where he sat. He said nothing but gently pulled her down to him by her hips, their lips meeting again finally. They lost themselves amongst the endless snogging and gentle caresses. She was pretty sure she heard him murmur the words _so sexy_ against her skin. This was the night Molly realized just how much her habit of wearing his shirts drove him wild.


	2. Adventures In Rosie Sitting

**prompted in my PMs by EdzaR: 'Babysitting 3-year old Rosie around the park, leading to fluff or cuteness ofc.' I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

"So, just call me if there's an emergency," John explained. "Obviously call 999 first and then me."

"John, it'll be fine," Sherlock insisted, a three year old Rosie in his arms. She was excited to spend the day with her Uncle Sherly. "Besides, Molly will be here in five minutes."

"Aunt Molly, Aunt Molly!" Rosie exclaimed.

"Alright," John chuckled, "it seems you've got it handled from here."

"Indeed," Sherlock insisted. John kissed his daughter's head of fair curls and left for his double shift. The consulting detective lowered his goddaughter into John's chair.

"When's Aunt Molly coming?" Rosie asked, kicking her legs excitedly.

"Soon," Sherlock replied, perusing the books on his shelf.

"I love Aunt Molly," she continued. "You love Aunt Molly too."

"I do," Sherlock smiled.

"Phew, that's a relief," Molly teased from the doorway. "For a second there, I was doubting our entire relationship."

"Aunt Molly!" Rosie shouted, running toward her to give her a hug.

"Hello there, sweetheart!" Molly beamed. "You weren't too much trouble for Uncle Sherlock were you?"

"I am perfectly capable of taking care of Rosie," he defended.

"Oh, I know," Molly laughed, "I'm just teasing."

"Hmmph," Sherlock grumbled, his arms crossed. Molly padded her way over to him.

"Cheer up," she told him. "I wouldn't tease you if I didn't love you." She pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, gaining a crooked smile from her love. Turning to Rosie, she said, "Why don't we go to the park today? The weather is so nice."

"Yes!" Rosie agreed enthusiastically.

"You up for it?" Molly asked Sherlock.

"I'm up for anything," he replied with a smirk.

* * *

It was warm and breezy. Sherlock had Rosie in his lap and Molly sat next to them beneath the large tree in the park providing shade. They had stopped for ice lollies to quench their thirst.

"Thank you, Uncle Sherly," Rosie told him, having another taste of her frozen treat.

"You're most welcome," Sherlock told her, pressing a gentle kiss to her mop of curls. Molly smiled at the display, her heart warming. Once the little Watson finished her ice lolly, Molly wiped down her hands to rid the sticky substance from her skin. After being cleaned up, Rosie skipped off to the swing set across the park, still in her godparents' field of view.

"You're so good with her," Molly complimented him. "And to think there was a time when you were so impartial to children."

"Yes, well, she is a lot like her mother," Sherlock remarked. "Just as stubborn and feisty."

"That she is," Molly agreed, laying her head on his shoulder. Rosie was socializing with the other children and she briefly turned to wave at her godparents. They waved back with smiles. Sherlock laced his fingers with Molly's, squeezing her hand affectionately.

Moments later, Rosie returned to them.

"Uncle Sherly, can I tell you something?" she asked.

"You can tell me anything, Rosie," he encouraged.

"I—I need to whisper it," she told him, leaning down toward his ear. "Take this and give it to Aunt Molly." Rosie snuck the item into his left hand. He glanced down briefly to see the plastic ring she wore that was in the shape of a flower.

"And what am I to do with this?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't be stupid, Uncle Sherly," Rosie scolded him. Sherlock's jaw dropped in mock-seriousness. "Ask Aunt Molly to marry you. I know you want to." She whispered this in his ear.

"And you deduced that did you?" Sherlock smiled proudly.

"Mhmm," she confirmed. Another moment passed and Rosie made a face of annoyance at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Now, Uncle Sherly," Rosie told him.

"Right here? Right at this moment?" he asked.

"Alright, what are you two on about?" Molly laughed. "I can't take it. What's the big secret?"

"Um, Molly," Sherlock began, clearing his throat. "I need to ask you something very important. I did have this planned out for a later date but our goddaughter insisted." He squeezed her hand tighter before placing a kiss on the back of it. "I love you so very much, darling."

"And I love you too," Molly giggled. Sherlock pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. Rosie was bouncing with anticipation waiting for her godfather to just spit it out.

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock paused momentarily, "I want to marry you; to be your husband and for you to be my wi—mmph!" Molly was snogging him silly. Her lips pressed firmly to his before peppering his face with kisses.

"Yes, definitely yes," she murmured between kisses. "Sherlock Holmes, I want to marry you too." The smile on his face could light up the universe.

"I hope this will suffice until we get back to the flat," he chuckled, slipping Rosie's plastic ring on Molly's finger.

"Oh, it's perfect! Come here, you," Molly laughed, pulling Rosie in for an embrace amongst the three of them.

"Good job, Uncle Sherly," Rosie cheered. They laughed together, all in high spirits from the day's events. Soon enough, their goddaughter persuaded them to play tag with her.

"Rosie and I are a team," Molly informed him, giving the little Watson a high five.

"Now, how is that fair?" Sherlock playfully complained.

"You better run, Uncle Sherly," Rosie warned him. He went off at his normal speed but slowed down enough for her to catch him. "Gotcha!"

"Ugh, oh no!" Sherlock exaggerated dramatically. Now, it was his turn to catch them. "You should run Miss Hooper, for I will always chase after you."

"You better," Molly winked before taking off running. It didn't take long for Sherlock to catch her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him. He pressed playful kisses below her ear, making her squirm under his grasp with breathless laughter escaping her lips.

"Mm, I believe I've captured you," Sherlock teased.

"You've had me since the first time we met, my love," Molly flirted.

"Betcha can't catch me, Uncle Sherly!" Rosie shouted.

"Don't be so sure, Rosamund," he told her. "The game is on!" Her little legs carried her far but not quickly enough. Sherlock picked her up in his arms and spun her around, her tinkling laughter filling the air.

"Alright, you two, it's nearly time for dinner," Molly smiled. They walked back to Baker Street with Rosie between them, holding onto each of their hands. She couldn't wait to tell her dad that her godparents were finally engaged.


	3. That Was Awkward

**prompted by mrbaker92 on tumblr: 'Sherlock is on a case with John & Lestrade where they have to make a visit to the lab and things get awkward between Sherlock and Molly. Post S4.**

* * *

"Oh, hello, John, Greg," Molly nodded, blatantly ignoring Sherlock's presence. Things had gotten a bit weird between them since the Sherrinford incident.

"Molly," Sherlock acknowledged. "Your hair is…brown." Molly furrowed her brows. "I mean, it's uh…a lovely shade, chestnut." He cleared his throat as John and Greg looked at him strangely. "Right, well, I need to see any recent thumbs you've gathered in the past week."

Right," Molly nodded anxiously. She dug through the inventory and handed Sherlock two separate bags that held a different thumb in each.

"Thank you," he told her, his bright cerulean eyes piercing hers. _Those eyes are gonna be the death of me_ , she thought, only she said it out loud unknowingly. "I'd much prefer it if you were alive, darling." _Darling? Where did that come from_? Sherlock asked himself. Another silently awkward moment passed before the consulting detective took over one of the microscopes to examine the first pollex.

"Boy, that was weird," Lestrade remarked to John.

"No kidding," John replied. "Things have been a bit too"—he paused, searching for the right word—"intense between them, lately."

"He's obviously smitten with her," Lestrade pointed out.

"I think he has been for much longer than we realized, Greg. I used to think it was Adler he was crazy about, but looking back, I see all that I missed about Molly," John explained.

"We can hear you," Sherlock groaned from the lab table. Molly was stifling a laugh while her face flushed bright red.

"I say it's been at least since the Christmas party a few years back," Greg spoke in a lowered tone.

"Out!" Sherlock shouted. "The two of you, go, now!" John and Greg backed out of the lab slowly and stayed in the hallway, peering in through the windows every now and then.

"You didn't have to be so rude to them," Molly scolded.

"Well, I'm not going to sit here and listen to their trivial conversation about us," Sherlock retorted.

"Maybe you should do something about it then!" she shouted.

"Maybe I will!" he shouted back in agreement. John and Greg were definitely watching through the windows but Sherlock didn't give a damn. A minute of silence passed before she spoke up again.

"Then do it," Molly prompted him. Sherlock stood and stepped closer to her. His towering height did nothing to intimidate her, for she felt safe when he was next to her short-statured self. One hand pressed firmly against the small of her back as the other cradled the back of her head when he leaned down to kiss her. It was a bit awkward and clumsy as they both spoke to one another in between each brush of their lips.

"I'm sorry I shouted," he mumbled.

"Mm, I'm sorry too," she replied, tracing her tongue along his bottom lip.

"I love you," he breathed out. "I do, truly, Molly, I—mmph!" She was snogging him senselessly.

Outside the lab, in the hallway, Mike Stamford looked through the window from behind John and Greg.

"Well," Stamford chuckled, "it's about time, don't you think?" Greg and John shot him a look of surprise.

"You knew!?" they both exclaimed.

"I thought it was obvious," Mike stated.


	4. Don't Cry, Baby

**Requested by penaltywaltz on tumblr: Sherlolly, reacting to the other one crying about something. C** **hapter title inspired by 'Don't Cry, Baby' by Etta James.**

* * *

Molly was having the worst day of her life. It all started when she was on her way out the door of her flat when she heard it: the breathy text alert of Sherlock's phone. He had spent the night holding her close, finally falling asleep together amidst their gentle snogs. It was a peaceful night's sleep as she woke up to find them in the same position they were hours ago, their lips still barely touching. It had made her blissful until that damn ringtone sounded.

At work, she had just finished an autopsy when another body was brought in. They claimed it to be a drug overdose. Immediately beginning, she slowly pulled the sheet back as the mass of dark curls she found had her panicking enough to rip the sheet off. Molly let out a breath of relief to find out it was not Sherlock. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to hold back the tears. Reeling in her fluctuating emotions, Molly began to work.

Arriving home after her long day, she trudged through her bedroom, slipping on one of Sherlock's dress shirts for pajamas. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry herself to sleep.

* * *

Sherlock arrived at Molly's flat, setting the takeaway on her coffee table. The unmistakable sound of sobs racking his love's petite body alerted him. He made his way to her bedroom, cracking the door open.

"Molly?" he called out softly. He saw her curled up, crying into his pillow. He walked over to the bed and scooped her up in his arms before sitting himself down.

"Sh-Sherlock," she cried into his chest.

"Shhh, it's alright, Molly. What's wrong, darling?" Sherlock asked, gently stroking her hair. Her sobbing became louder and more forceful to the point where her answers were incoherent. "Don't worry about talking, love, just let it all out." He kissed the top of her head and rocked her in his arms, humming a sweet melody in her ear. Every now and then, Molly felt his lips lightly brush against her ear.

"She t-texted y-you again," Molly stuttered through her tears. His heart ached for her. She misunderstood the text from Irene.

"Oh, my Molly, there's nothing to worry about," Sherlock told her. "I had told her to cease texting me; that I was in love with my pathologist. She wanted to send her congratulations to you."

"C-congratulations?" Molly asked, finally looking up into his bright viridian eyes.

"Mhm. I believe her words were 'congratulations on stealing the elusive heart of Sherlock Holmes,'" he informed her. Another kiss, pressed to her forehead this time, seemed to calm her.

"I also had a bit of a scare today. This body was brought in and the hair was very similar to yours and I—I just know that I could never handle it if you were kil—" Molly stopped, unable to bring the word to her lips, tears streaming down her face. She found another way to word her thoughts on the matter. "I don't want you to leave me." Her voice was so thick with emotion, Sherlock was helpless to stop a tear of his own from slipping.

"I will never leave you, Molly, I promise," Sherlock whispered, a small, comforting smile graced his lips. She lifted her head to press her lips against his, feeling the need to make sure he was there and he was real. "Mm, do you know how much I love you, Molly?"

"If it's anywhere close to the capacity of love I feel for you, I think I have a pretty good idea," she replied, kissing him once more. Sherlock wiped her tears from her face with his thumbs. Molly's stomach growled due to the fact she had not eaten anything all day.

"It's a good thing you're hungry," Sherlock chuckled. "I brought takeaway." This elicited a laugh from Molly and his heart soared. "I love your laugh." His smile had his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I love food," Molly giggled. Sherlock gave a playful frown. "And I love you too."


	5. It's Time

**prompted by flowerstar5 on tumblr: Sherlock and a pregnant Molly babysit Rosie when Molly goes into labour early.**

* * *

"Aunt Mowwy!" Rosie exclaimed, climbing the soft to sit next her. She and Sherlock were babysitting for a bit while John ran some errands.

"Hello there, sweetheart," Molly cooed, pressing a motherly kiss to the little Watson's mass of blonde curls.

"Pwitty baby," Rosie grinned, gently running her dimpled fingers over the large swell of Molly's tummy. She was nearly eight and a half months pregnant and Sherlock had been fretting over her constantly. When Molly wanted to make an actual home-cooked meal, he insisted that he could follow a recipe just as well as she could. He wasn't bad as he had compared the process of cooking to that of chemistry.

"You're gonna have a little cousin to play with soon," Molly smiled at her goddaughter.

"Ah, yes, I can hardly wait," Sherlock smirked, giving his wife a soft kiss on the cheek. "Rosie, your lunch is ready." He led her to the kitchen table to sit and eat. A drawn out groan sounded from the sitting room.

"Maybe sooner than we thought," Molly cried out in pain. She was taking sharp breaths and Sherlock rushed out to the sitting room. He sat down next to her, taking her hand in his and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. The pain subsided for a bit and then started up again. Mrs. Hudson heard the anguished cries as she was coming up for a visit.

"Molly," Sherlock said, kissing the side of her temple. "That was four minutes from the last one." She let out another painful cry. He wasted no time then, gathering the overnight bag and other necessities. "Mrs. Hudson, you're here! Molly's in labour! Could you watch Rosie?"

"Oh my, yes, of course, dear," Mrs. Hudson answered from the landing. She moved out of the way as Sherlock helped Molly down the stairs. He hailed a cab and they were on their way to Bart's. Molly squeezed his hand as each contraction came, causing him to wince a bit at her newfound strength.

"Sherlock!" she screamed. "I am going to kill you!"

"Now, Molly, just breathe," Sherlock urged her.

"You did this to me!" Molly shouted. The cab driver was snickering a bit at the scene.

"To be fair, you had a part in it as well," he replied cheekily. Molly glared daggers at him which made Sherlock immediately regret his response. "Okay, it's all my fault, Molly, I'm so-orry ouch!" She could very easily break his hand at this rate.

"Better be," she panted. He quickly dialed John and told him that he and Molly were on their way to Bart's and that Mrs. Hudson had Rosie.

* * *

In the waiting room, John sat with Rosie, Greg, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson.

"I don't know what floor they're on; they won't tell me," John informed them.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES, I AM GOING TO MAKE YOUR DEATH LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT!"

"I'd say this floor," Greg chuckled.

* * *

"Here, eat these," Sherlock told Molly, handing her ice chips. "You can do this, my beautiful Molly."

"I can't, I can't," she cried.

"Don't have much choice now, darling," he smirked. "You can; I promise you that you can. Do you trust me?" She nodded. "Then trust me when I say you can do this. I don't care if you break my hand in the process, you can get through it. I'm right here."

"Sorry for threatening your life," Molly laughed hollowly. Another contraction hit hard, she could barely talk, though she tried.

"Shhh, Molly, don't talk," he soothed her as she squeezed his hand. Sherlock began massaging her abdomen to attempt to alleviate the pain.

"Alright," the doctor said," it's time to push, Molly." Her face scrunched up in pain as she pushed the first time. Sherlock was performing the breathing techniques with her. A few more pushes had his hand throbbing with pain but it was all worth it.

"One more push, Molly," Sherlock encouraged. "You can do this. I love you so much." That was all it took as Molly finally gave birth to their beautiful baby girl.

"I love you, too," she panted with a small smile.

"I'm so proud of you, darling. You were amazing," Sherlock told her, admiration in his tone. He kissed her forehead which was now beaded with sweat, her hair matted to her face. "You are so beautiful."

"Here you are; a beautiful baby girl. Congratulations," the doctor said, handing Molly their swaddled daughter. Sherlock's eyes filled with tears.

"She's precious," Molly cooed. "Oh, I love her."

"We made her," Sherlock mused. It was then that the consulting detective felt what it was like to fall in love in a completely different way. "I will never let you down." He leaned in to kiss his daughter's forehead.

"She has your hair," Molly laughed lightheartedly, looking down at the full head of chestnut curls atop their daughter's head.

"Your colouring, your adorable nose," Sherlock said with a smile. "I love her so much."

* * *

John, Rosie, Greg, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson entered to finally visit the newest member of the Holmes family. They saw Sherlock and Molly fawning over their daughter and Greg couldn't help but snap a candid.

"Hey," Molly spoke up at them, her voice hoarse. "Come meet Charlotte." They gathered by her bedside.

"Pwitty wittle baby," Rosie cooed, her eyes lighting up.

"That's right, Rosie," John told her.

"Brother mine, perhaps you should inform Doctor Watson of Charlotte's middle name," Mycroft suggested. He had been the only one outside of the two new parents that knew the name.

"Charlotte Mary-Margaret Holmes," Sherlock smiled. John's heart swelled.

"Mary would have loved to be here for this," John said.

"We wanted to give her Mary's name some way," Molly explained. "We went through all kinds of possibilities. That was the only name we were sure about before coming up with that mouthful." Her laughter filled the room. "Would you like to hold her?" John nodded and handled Charlotte with care.

"We were also wondering if you'd be godfather, John," Sherlock informed him.

"I'd like that very much, Sherlock," John agreed, handing Charlotte over to his best friend.

"Do you want Uncle Mycroft to hold you? Of course you do," Sherlock smirked.

"Oh, I'm not sure if—" Mycroft began but automatically took his niece in his arms. No one ever knew what the eldest Holmes looked like when he was in awe, but they saw a true, genuine smile on his face as he held his niece. Sherlock looked around at the small family he had built for himself throughout the years. Funny to think that aside from Mycroft, it had all started with Greg Lestrade and Molly Hooper, now Holmes. It continued upon meeting John through Mike Stamford and renting 221B from Mrs. Hudson. Mary was added to the mix when he came back to London and then there was Rosie. Sherlock's heart swelled at the scene before him. Once upon a time, he never thought he'd have this; never thought he would have wanted it until he did have it. He knew he was never letting go. This was his family and he loved them.


	6. The Science of Courtships (Part 1)

**prompted by potterlockianegalitarian928 on tumblr: Sherlock is thrilled to be working with Dr. M. Hooper, a pathologist whose essays have made Sherlock a fan of their work. When Sherlock meets Dr. Hooper, he is both surprised and impressed that Dr. Hooper is a young woman. When he sees that she's as kind as she intelligent, he falls and falls hard for her.**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was on a rather large case concerning one 'Jack the Ripper' and was rather thrilled to be working with Doctor M. Hooper on it. He had been a longtime admirer of the doctor's essays submitted to the various medical journals he read. Oh, it felt like Christmas to him.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes," Mike Stamford greeted him. "Dr. Hooper has been waiting for you in the mortuary."

"Thank you," Sherlock nodded, venturing into the morgue. He looked around the formaldehyde scented room when his cerulean eyes landed upon a young woman.

"Mister Holmes, I presume. I was told we would be working together and—" Doctor Hooper turned to face the most handsome and distinguished man she had ever seen. She did her best to keep her heart beat under control.

"Doctor…Hooper?" he asked with uncertainty.

"Y-yes sir, that would be correct," Doctor Hooper confirmed, dropping her scalpel. Sherlock bent down to retrieve it for her.

"I must say, I am quite impressed that a young woman such as yourself has such intriguing insight of the medical field," Sherlock stated. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Hooper, as I have been a longtime admirer of your work." He glanced at her hand quickly before meeting her eyes once more. "May I?" She nodded and he took her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it.

"I am glad to know you are not disappointed to find me to be a woman, Mr. Holmes," Doctor Hooper remarked.

"Disappointed? No," Sherlock told her. "If anything, I admire you all the more, Doctor Hooper." She gave him a small smile.

"Thank you, Mister Holmes," she nodded.

"Sherlock, please," he said.

"Mister Holmes, we have hardly been acquainted," Doctor Hooper pointed out. "We have already broken one societal rule; are you sure you want to break another?"

"I am quite sure, actually. You will learn that I am not one to follow societal normalities," Sherlock informed her. "Of course, we will only keep it between ourselves but if you are not comfortable with the use of first names, I will cease my insistence upon it. I apologize, Doctor Hooper, if I have been intolerable."

"It is quite alright, Mr. Holmes. Sherlock," she replied, testing his name on her tongue. "Margaret is my name, but I prefer Molly."

"Molly," he repeated. "I quite like the sound of that, Molly Hooper." A faint blush rose upon her cheeks. His rich baritone voice spoke her name as if it contained only the best letters of the alphabet.

"Yes, well, now that we have that out of the way, care to examine this cadaver with me?" Molly asked.

"Delighted," Sherlock replied.

* * *

Upon returning to Baker Street, he was met by his friend, Dr. John Watson and his wife, Mary Watson _née_ Morstan.

"Holmes," John nodded. "How was your first meeting with Doctor Hooper? Mary and I have been thoroughly interested in the day's events."

"It was…informative. Lovely, even. She and I examined the lacerations on last night's victim together," Sherlock informed them.

"She?" Mary asked with a spark in her eyes. "Why, that must have been a surprise. Did you think she was pretty?"

"Mary," John warned.

"What, dear husband? Is it so hard to believe that Sherlock Holmes could find a woman to be pretty?" Mary asked.

"I do not involve myself in romantic entanglements, Mrs. Watson," Sherlock spoke up.

"Oh, pish posh. That does not mean you do not find her pretty," Mary pointed out.

"She is a woman of high intelligence and I admire her for it," Sherlock countered. "That is all it is; admiration." Mary let it go until she and John left 221B.

"I give it a week," Mary told her husband.

"Now, Mary," John began.

"Oh, come now, John, surely you noticed the bounce in his step upon returning from the hospital. He fancies her, I assure you," Mary smiled.

"Perhaps, but do not go about pushing them together," John told her.

"I am certain they will not need my help in that endeavor," Mary replied with a wink.

* * *

"The face is a bit bashed up, but I'm sure I can make out enough of her to identify her," Molly explained, pulling the sheet back. It had been a gruesome murder, indeed.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked, discovering small bruises on the woman's wrist. "It seems there are puncture wounds from an injection of some sort. This woman is not one of The Ripper's victims, but made to look as though she were." It had been a week since their first meeting. They worked together incredibly well.

"Brilliant," Molly remarked. "I'll ready an autopsy right away." As she worked to test the victim's blood for the cause of death, Sherlock's eyes never left her.

"Doctor Hooper," he began. "Molly."

"Yes?" she asked, studying the blood.

"If you were so inclined, would you accompany me to the theatre tomorrow night? I know it is scandalous to be asking instead of sending a written invitation, but I do not know where you reside or with whom," Sherlock explained.

"Are you asking to court me, Mister Holmes?" she inquired, her eyes locked onto his.

"Well, yes, I should think so," Sherlock replied. "You are of high intelligence and, well, you are quite becoming. That is to say, I fancy you."

"I would love to, Mister Holmes; Sherlock," Molly smiled, "though I am a bit taken aback." Sherlock's brow furrowed. "You see, people talk and I had heard you do not—what was the term—bother yourself with the dullness of romantic entanglements. I apologize but I cannot help but think there are ulterior motives."

"I had hoped those words would never reach your ears, Doctor Hooper," Sherlock spoke softly. "I've no idea if I can convince you otherwise, but I assure you, my intentions are pure. Your kindness is another attribute in which I admire about you. I understand if you were to take back your answer and reject me instead, but I must say it would break my heart if you chose to do so."

"I will not take it back," Molly assured him. "I intend to stand by the first answer I gave, Mister Holmes. I, well I fancy you too." She turned back to her blood testing, finding the results. Sherlock felt exhilarated at the prospect of courting Molly.

"What did you find?" Sherlock asked.

"It was an overdose," Molly spoke quietly. "A cocaine overdose." Sherlock's face fell. What was he thinking!? Molly deserved better than him; better than a man who's chosen addiction was a controlled use of a seven percent solution. It never occurred to him before this moment. This was a matter to speak with John about, though he did not plan to let his friend in on his plans for tomorrow night, but it was too late for that now.

* * *

"So I was right?" Mary smiled. "I told you to give it a week, John." They were gathered on the main floor of Bart's Hospital that afternoon, as John wanted to check up on the investigation of Jack the Ripper.

"I do not know what to do," Sherlock sighed. "We are to go to the theatre tomorrow night but I now realize I have made a mistake." He spoke in a hushed tone but his words were not unheard by the petite woman who had just begun to approach him.

"Well, if that's what you think, Mister Holmes, I assure you, the feeling is mutual," Molly snapped at him. "Dr. Watson, Mrs. Watson." She nodded at them before making a swift exit.

"Doctor Hooper, that's not what I—" the sound of a slamming door stopped his words. Sherlock felt his heart ache for her. There was no coming back from this…or was there? He hoped he could fix this and soon.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is part 1 of 2, so there's more of this story to come. :)


	7. The Science of Courtships (Part 2)

Sherlock Holmes waited outside of the door. He had called upon his brother, Mycroft, to find out where Doctor Hooper resided. Apparently, her parents had both passed when she was only sixteen, hence why there was never a coming out party for her. She had been residing with her cousin, Meena, and her husband, Gideon Wadsworth.

"Ah, hello, Mrs. Wadsworth, is Doctor Hooper available?" Sherlock asked.

"Are you that Holmes fellow?" Meena asked. "Because if you are, I'm afraid you are not welcome and will not be invited inside."

"Well, good news then, I do not wish to enter; I only wish to ask if Molly would take a stroll with me. I need to explain," Sherlock informed her. "I need to apologize." He paused a moment. "Please, Mrs. Wadsworth; I misworded some things and it might quite possibly kill me if I cannot do anything to make up for it."

"I'll let her know," Meena said. "If you would be so kind to wait in the sitting room."

"Thank you," Sherlock nodded. He waited as was asked of him. Mere seconds passed when he heard Molly's voice down the hall.

"If you think I am going to give that infuriating man one more second of my time, you are mistaken!" she huffed, stopping short when her eyes landed on the very man she was disgusted with.

"I am sorry to have wasted your time, Mrs. Wadsworth," Sherlock spoke solemnly. "Good day to you, Doctor Hooper. I apologize for my behaviour earlier." He began to walk towards the door in defeat, his heart breaking with every step he took. Upon grabbing the door knob, he felt a small hand on his arm.

"Thirty minutes; that is all the time I am giving you to make things right, Mister Holmes," Molly spoke firmly.

"That is all the time I need, Doctor Hooper," Sherlock replied. Molly noticed the way his eyes lit up. She slid her arm through his and allowed him to lead her out of the door.

* * *

"What was all that about, Mister Holmes? At the hospital? Do you honestly believe asking to court me was a mistake?" Molly asked, her voice breaking.

"It was not meant to sound as if it was a mistake to ask you, but rather that I am the mistake," Sherlock explained.

"I do not understand," Molly admitted. "I do not think you are a mistake."

"You would if I told you about my worst habit," Sherlock told her. "I am trying to cease from continuing it."

"Whatever it is, Sherlock, you can tell me," Molly insisted. His heart hammered in his chest at the sound of his name on her lips. It sounded right, as if she was the only one meant to say it.

"Before I do, just know I would understand if you no longer wished to be in my presence ever again," Sherlock said. Molly waited for him to tell her more. "I use a seven percent solution of cocaine to help my thought processes. I realize it is a nasty habit and you deserve much better than a man who ruins himself for the sake of detective work."

"The woman who was injected with an overdose of cocaine," Molly stated. "That's what set you off."

"You are not horrified by my confession?" Sherlock asked, a bit confused.

"Not at all; more concerned than horrified," Molly admitted. "If you are willing to quit such a habit, I am willing to help you through it. Oh, Sherlock, you really thought that would deter me?"

"You are a most endearing woman, Molly Hooper. I do not deserve such a precious gift," Sherlock spoke softly.

"Though we've only known one another for a short time, I find myself in a position of undying loyalty and—" she stopped short before admitting too much. "I feel as though I know the truth of your heart."

"And what is the truth of my heart?" Sherlock asked with curiosity.

"You have a good heart, Sherlock Holmes, and though you put up many walls, I feel it to be an honour for you to have allowed me to reach past them," Molly explained. "Some claim you do not have a heart at all, but I disagree. You care deeply for those closest to you, as shown by your visitation to me today." A moment of comfortable silence passed between them.

"I do have another confession to make," Sherlock stated.

"Oh?" Molly pried.

"William is my real first name," he admitted with a chuckle. Molly giggled along with him.

"My, Mister Holmes, I feel quite betrayed," she teased. "Whatever shall I do with you?"

"Allow me to escort you to the theatre tomorrow night?" Sherlock asked.

"I would be honoured to," Molly replied. She lifted her free hand, holding her fan, stopping their stroll to face him. "For the sake of ignoring society's expectations, may I suggest something?"

"If you would like to," Sherlock encouraged, unsure of where this was going. Molly opened her fan, touching it to her lips. His heart leapt in his chest. "Why, Miss Hooper, are you sure?"

"Quite so," Molly answered, batting her lashes. Sherlock leaned in ever so slowly that Molly could not wait a second longer. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, urging his lips to press against hers firmly. As their lips brushed against one another, Molly drew her fan lightly across his cheek. _I love you_. They parted and Sherlock gently touched his fingers to his cheek.

"And I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock whispered.

* * *

The next night, Sherlock was seated next to Molly at the theatre. They were there to see Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. Their fingers would brush up against one another every now and then. It was always completely accidental, of course. She wore a locket around her neck which contained a lock of his now slicked back curls. He had given it to her during the carriage ride to the theatre. The intermission came quickly.

"Would you care to join me in the foyer?" Sherlock asked.

"But of course, Mister Holmes," Molly smiled.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he further inquired.

"Immensely," she answered. "Though, I must say I am enjoying your company much more." She carried her fan in her right hand, in front of her face. _Follow me_. And follow her, he did. She led him to a hidden alcove, out of the way of prying eyes. Not bothering to signal him with her fan, she stood on her toes to kiss him.

"You are quite audacious, Miss Hooper," Sherlock breathed into her ear. "I most ardently love you, as I have fallen hard for your beautiful mind and kind heart."

"And I, you, my love," she whispered, caressing his cheek with her gloved hand.

They returned to their seats for the last half of the play. Molly was thoroughly entertained with the scene playing out before them. Hamlet had told Horatio how he plotted to overcome Claudius's scheme to have him murdered. The actor suddenly collapsed on stage, ironically, much to the shock of the audience and cast members. Molly stood, followed by Sherlock.

"That man has been poisoned," Molly spoke up, raising her voice for all to hear.

"And what makes you qualified to know such things? Your intellect must not be that high," a man in an outer seat spoke haughtily.

"I suggest you think twice before approaching Doctor Hooper in such a manner," Sherlock snapped. "If you had one ounce of intelligence, you would recognize her brilliance and qualifications. Do not dare to speak to her ever again, for you are undeserving to even lay your eyes upon her beauty." The rude man in question sank back down into his seat, visibly shaken.

* * *

Once all was taken care of, thanks to DI Lestrade's arrival, Sherlock led Molly to their awaiting carriage. He had deduced that the person responsible for the lead's death was the very cast member who played Horatio. It was perfectly timed for irony and the hopes of not being suspected.

"I am sorry that we were not able to finish the play," Sherlock said as the carriage took off.

"It is quite alright," Molly laughed. "There is nothing more exciting than a murder to solve."

"Perhaps you were made especially for me, Molly Hooper," Sherlock grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I cannot help but agree the same about you, William," Molly smirked. He blinked rapidly, in shock at the use of his true first name. He loved the way she caressed it on her lips.

"I—well, I was going to send this to you, but I want you to have it now. You may read it in my presence, if you wish," Sherlock offered her an envelope. She opened it carefully and unfolded the letter, beginning to read to herself.

 _Darling Molly,_

 _I tend to convey my thoughts much better on paper than with the spoken word. Have I ever told you how much I adore your soulful brown eyes? I feel honoured just to have them gaze upon me. To be graced by your presence is a precious gift that I shall cherish each and every day. I have fancied you since the very first day we met and I choose to believe the feeling was mutual. You have awakened my heart, Molly Hooper, and it only beats for you. Though it is a bit fast, our whirlwind romance has shown it can withstand anything. If it is not too soon, I should like to call upon you tomorrow._

 _Yours always,_

 _William._

"Yes, you may call upon me tomorrow," Molly smiled. "And Sherlock?" He nodded for her to continue. "It does not matter the amount of time, but the quality of the time that is spent together." This seemed to ease him, as he had plans to execute; plans for their future.

* * *

"Mister and Mrs. Wadsworth, may I request to have a private word with Doctor Hooper?" Sherlock asked. They nodded knowingly. Molly entered the sitting room after their departure.

"Mister Holmes," she spoke sweetly. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Miss Hooper, it has come to my attention that I simply cannot think of anyone else I would want to spend my life with," Sherlock smiled, stepping closer to her, closing the gap between them. "I would be honoured if you were to agree to be my wife. I promise to cherish you every day, as I am deeply in love with you. Should you choose to accept my proposal, I promise to do right by you and hope to make you very happy." He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Marry me."

"Yes," she answered quietly, her voice thick with emotion. "I will marry you." Sherlock slipped the delicate band of rose gold onto her finger. The center was set with a pearl, small diamonds clustered on either side of it. "I love you." And then he was kissing her, not caring that the Wadsworths were peeking around the corner. Who knew that upon meeting a doctor he truly admired, Sherlock Holmes would fall fast for her? He certainly did not see it coming, taking it in stride, as the famed consulting detective did love to be surprised every once in a while. And pleasantly surprised, he was.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** and so ends this prompt! I am finally nearly caught up on them lol!


	8. Stuck

**drabble request from elennemigo on tumblr: "Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a while." Oh, and dear guest reviewer, Stalking Jack the Ripper is one of my fave books and I talk to the author on Twitter regularly! She's super nice! I'm so glad you caught that!**

* * *

Molly flew towards the elevator, Sherlock quick on her heels. She was desperately trying to avoid the conversation at hand; at least trying to postpone it. She was at work, not at all equipped to deal with it all right now. He followed her inside and the doors shut as she pressed the floor number.

"Do we really have to do this?" she sighed. Sherlock flicked his eyes over to her briefly.

"Molly, if you would just–" the words stopped as the elevator halted, suspended between floors.

"You have got to be kidding me," Molly groaned. She swiftly wiped away a tear of frustration as she slid down the wall of the elevator and onto the floor. Sherlock cautiously sat down beside her, his face twisted in heartache for her. Gathering her into his arms, she began to cry softly into his shirt.

"Molly?" he spoke softly.

"Don't," she cried. "I know you planned for this happen."

"I-I didn't, actually," Sherlock admitted. Somewhere in the hospital, John and Mycroft were celebratory of a job well done. Her tears cleared up, giving Sherlock the chance to try again. "Molly, would you be willing to hear me out? Please?" His tone was gentle. "We don't have to talk if you don't want to."

"Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a while," Molly remarked with a small laugh. It was just the invitation he needed. Sherlock only hoped he could get her to see what she truly meant to him. He loved her, and really, that's all that mattered in that moment.


	9. In Trouble

**drabble prompt from MizJoely on tumblr: "Why did we have to have kids?"**

* * *

"Victor Hamish Holmes, what do you have to say for yourself?" Sherlock's voice boomed. The kitchen walls were splattered with the remnants of an experiment.

"It wasn't just me!" Victor exclaimed. "Charlotte was in on it too!" Sherlock looked around but did not see his daughter present. She was hiding.

"Charlotte, I know you're beneath the desk, come out now," he called out. She poked her head full of cinnamon curls out from under her father's workspace.

"What on Earth is going on?" Molly asked as she entered 221B.

"Mommy!" Charlotte shouted, running towards her mother. Molly enveloped her in her arms.

"It seems our son has taken to experimenting on his own time; apparently Charlotte was in on it," Sherlock explained.

"Alright, you two, clean this up and afterwards, we're going to have a talk," Molly told them. The two children went to work straightaway. Sherlock followed Molly to the sofa, both collapsing in exhaustion.

"Oh, father?" Victor asked.

"Yes?" Sherlock answered.

"You may or may not be aware, but Mummy's with child again," Victor deduced, returning to the kitchen. Sherlock's face softened with love in his eyes for his wife.

"Why did we have to have kids?" Molly questioned with a laugh.

"Because we wanted a family," Sherlock smiled before kissing her.

"Ew!" the Holmes children proclaimed rather loudly.

"I love our family," Molly smiled. "And I love you."


	10. Having a Domestic

**drabble request from stephanniesissues on tumblr: "Don't touch me. We're fighting."**

* * *

"Do you even hear yourself, Sherlock!?" Molly asked. He puzzled over it a moment until realization hit him.

"A bit not good?" he questioned.

"Yeah," Molly scoffed, her arms crossed. She was refusing to look at him and Sherlock shivered from the cold front Molly was putting up.

"Molly," he half whispered, walking up and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Don't touch me. We're fighting," Molly whined, shrugging him off. Her eyes pierced his in anger.

"But I don't want to fight," Sherlock replied, his voice breaking. Molly's entire face softened. She admitted to herself that they were both being a bit unreasonable. His gaze was cast downward, unsure of what to do until a pair of small arms enveloped him.

"I'm sorry," Molly muttered.

"I'm sorry too," Sherlock apologized, pressing kisses in her hair.

"I don't want to fight either," Molly told him.

"Forgive me?" Sherlock asked.

"Always," Molly smiled.


	11. Zzz

**drabble request from stephanniesissues on tumblr: "You fell asleep in the tub!?" I admit I got a little carried away after the initial line was spoken xD**

* * *

Molly Hooper arrived home from a long day at work. She stalked off to her bedroom to gather clean pajamas for after her shower. Walking into her bathroom, she stopped short at the sight before her.

"You fell asleep in the tub!?" she exclaimed with amusement. Sherlock Holmes was covered in bubbles, his head leaning back with his eyes closed. He opened them quickly, seeing his girlfriend staring down at him.

"I, uh, must have dozed off," Sherlock admitted sheepishly.

"Ya think?" Molly laughed. "Look, just get yourself dried up and dressed so I can take my shower." She left her pajamas in the bathroom and stepped outside to let him change. Sherlock dried himself off with the towel she kept there for him. He exited the bathroom once he was dressed.

"All yours," Sherlock gestured, finding her in the sitting room.

About fifteen minutes later, Molly was freshly showered. She stepped into her bedroom where Sherlock was thinking with his fingers steepled beneath his chin. He threw an automatic glance at her and then locked his eyes onto her. once more. Molly was dressed in a yellow nightie with white polka dots and white lace that formed the edge of the sweetheart neckline. He was out of bed and in front of her in seconds, snogging her senselessly.

"Did you want to stay the night?" Molly asked breathlessly as his lips moved to her neck.

"Mm, how could I not?" he murmured against her skin. Molly was satisfied with the reaction he had toward her in her new nightie.


	12. Elemental, My Dear Hooper

**drabble request from emotional-context on Tumblr: "You're competitive and so am I, and it's going to lead to a fight."** **This prompt has allowed my inner chemistry nerd to emerge! Teen!Lock.**

* * *

The science fair was quickly approaching and it was no secret that Sherlock Holmes preferred to work with Molly Hooper. She was, in his words, 'the most competent person' in the class aside from himself.

"We should do an acid base catalysis," Molly suggested.

"We want to win, Molly, that's child's play," Sherlock scoffed.

"Oh? Then what's your idea, tall, dark and broody?" Molly countered.

"Obviously, we should do an experiment to determine the empirical formula of potassium chlorate through thermal decomposition," Sherlock insisted.

"I thought we wanted to win, Sherlock," Molly snorted. "Besides, my idea is far better suited."

"Look, Molly, you're competitive and so am I, and it's going to lead to a fight," Sherlock sighed.

"You're right," Molly conceded. "We need to be on the same page." A moment of silence passed between them.

"Your idea's not so bad," Sherlock admitted.

"I do like yours better," Molly confessed. And with that, they agreed to go with his idea.

"Here, type this information into my phone," Sherlock requested. Molly turned it on but was stumped by his password.

"I don't know the password," Molly told him. Sherlock smirked as he typed it in and Molly watched as he did it. He was typing in element symbols: Molybdenum, Lithium, Holmium, Oxygen, Phosphorus and Erbium. She gasped at what the elements' abbreviations spelled out.

MoLiHoOPEr

This was going to be a exceptional year.


	13. Oh, What a Night!

**drabble request from flowerstar5 on tumblr: "I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid." Post-TSOT.**

* * *

He had left them to their joy at the reception. He didn't belong there; not with the friends he didn't deserve. And especially not with the woman he loved who was dancing with another man. Someone that wasn't him; a person he could never be for her. His heart ached with longing.

Molly had gone to Baker Street. She knew he'd be there, as she did watch him leave. Everything in her screamed to go after him, but instead, she chose to stay with a man she didn't love. It didn't last long before she ended the engagement at John and Mary's reception. Celebrating one marriage while destroying the chance of another. Her heart had clenched in her chest to the point where she couldn't take it anymore. Molly needed to go to Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson let her in and she peered into 221B after climbing the stairs.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"Molly? What are you doing here? What about the reception?" he scoffed, lying on the sofa with three nicotine patches on his arms. "What about Tom?"

"Why don't you open your eyes and deduce that for yourself?" Molly challenged. He sighed but gave in and glanced her over, his eyes directly aimed at her finger.

"No ring," Sherlock noted. "It was because you stabbed him with a fork, wasn't it?"

"Actually, I-" Molly began.

"You didn't, Molly," Sherlock said. "Tell me you didn't."

"I can't, Sherlock, because I did. He's not you," Molly told him.

"I harbour no romantic notions, Molly," Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock Holmes! I may be an idiot, but I'm not stupid!" Molly exclaimed.

"You're not an idiot," Sherlock muttered.

"I was. You had reached out to give us a chance when you took me crime solving with you and I shut you down. But I am not stupid in that I do happen to know you do harbour romantic notions toward me," Molly told him. Sherlock stood and closed the gap between them.

"You always see me," he whispered.

"I do. Now, shut up and kiss me," Molly smiled before he pressed his lips to hers.


	14. Wrong

**drabble request from flowerstar5 on tumblr: "I just like proving you wrong."**

* * *

"Lestrade, this is pointless, it was obviously a drowning," Sherlock sighed. He, John, Molly and Greg were in the morgue.

"Nope," Molly grinned, popping the'p' the same way Sherlock does when he's being cheeky.

"No?" Sherlock scoffed. "Molly, you're not stupid, you know it's a drowning."

"Oh, he was tossed in the Thames, alright, but he was poisoned beforehand. That's the true cause of death," Molly smiled smugly.

"Let me see that," Sherlock frowned, looking at the results. He couldn't believe it. He'd been wrong.

"Say it," Molly told him.

"..."

"Come now, I don't have all day. Say it, Sherlock," Molly insisted.

"Why?" Sherlock whined.

"I just like proving you wrong," Molly smirked. "Giving you a taste of your own medicine, so come on, say it."

"You were right, I was wrong," Sherlock sighed. "Happy?"

"Immensely," Molly replied with glee.


	15. How To Scar John Watson For Life

**drabble request from flowerstar5: "And that's how you ruin a life. Congratulations."**

* * *

John Watson climbed up the stairs to 221B. He had left Mrs. Hudson in care of Rosie. Upon opening the door, he peeked around. What he saw would forever be etched into his brain. Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes half naked and making out fervently like a couple of teenagers. He was kissing her neck, leaving love bites. Sherlock Holmes. What a sight. Molly's bra was being tugged on and John spoke before anything further happened.

"And that's how you ruin a life. Congratulations," John announced, interrupting them. They broke away from their passion. Molly burst out laughing, burying her face, now bright red, into Sherlock's shoulder. John began to back away out of the door but didn't escape without Sherlock throwing a pillow at him.

"No more interruptions," Sherlock complained. John left, firmly closing the door. Molly caught her breath from all the laughing and looked up at Sherlock. She dove her head back down to kiss his neck.

"Mm, where were we?" Molly murmured against him.


	16. Rosie's 1st Birthday

**drabble request from stlgeekgirl on twitter/tumblr: "Frost the damn cupcakes!" (changed to fairy cakes for accuracy lol)**

* * *

"Sherlock, you need to finish cleaning off this table," Molly told him. She had just taken out a tray of fairy cakes.

"Do we really need to do all of this?" Sherlock sighed. "It's her first birthday; she's never going to remember it."

"Yes," Molly snapped. "I intend for this party to be perfect. Just because she won't remember it doesn't mean John or I won't show her photos from it down the road." He conceded, clearing his microscope and various supplies off of the table. There was just no winning an argument with her.

The fairy cakes were cooled enough to decorate them and Molly was changing into a flowy yellow dress in their bedroom. A knock at the door of 221B alerted Sherlock and he opened it to let Mrs. Hudson, and Greg inside. John and Rosie were coming up the stairs behind them.

"Ah, Watson, I do not understand the reason behind going to such lengths for your first birthday, but happy birthday," Sherlock told his goddaughter who only gurgled in response.

"Sherlock," Molly called out from the bedroom. "Will you frost the fairy cakes?" Everyone's eyes panned over to the consulting detective.

"I don't frost fairy cakes, Molly," Sherlock groaned.

"Sherlock Holmes, it's for our goddaughter! Just frost the damn fairy cakes!" Molly shouted from the bedroom. Everyone snickered at the strange domestic scene. Strange only because it was Sherlock Holmes.


	17. A Night at Baker Street

**drabble request from stlgeekgirl on Twitter/Tumblr: "I just got out of the shower, I can't dance. What if my towel falls off?"**

* * *

Molly stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her. Music was drifting through the flat from sitting room. It was strange for Sherlock to enjoy anything other than the sounds of his violin. Listening closely, she realized he had somehow figured out her laptop password because he was playing songs from a playlist she made.

"Sherlock?" Molly called out, stepping into the sitting room in her towel. The song playing was one of her favourites.

"Hello, Molly," a rich baritone voice sounded in her ear. She turned to see Sherlock smiling down at her with such adoration. Before she had a chance to adjust her towel, he took her hands and started dancing with her.

"Sherlock," Molly laughed, "I just got out of the shower, I can't dance."

"Of course you can," he insisted, spinning her around and pulling her close.

"What if my towel falls off?" she giggled. He leaned down to press a warm, lingering kiss to her lips.

"Mm, what if, indeed," he replied with a wink.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** the song they're dancing to is 1901 by Phoenix...look it up on Youtube and give it a listen :)


	18. Get Your Own Goat

**drabble request from theresadunn on tumblr: "Just don't buy a goat. I don't care what you do, just no goats." Retired!Lock.**

* * *

Molly walked out to the garden where Sherlock was tending to the bees.

"Good morning, love," she smiled. "I brought you coffee."

"Black, two sugars?" he asked.

"Yes," Molly laughed. "The same way I've made it for over twenty years." He sipped the warm caffeinated beverage, looking around the wide open field that extended beyond their cozy cottage.

"Something's missing," Sherlock mused. "Maybe an outdoor animal."

"Oh no," Molly told him. "We already had this conversation."

"But wouldn't-"

"No," she said firmly.

"Please, darling?" he asked.

"Fine," she conceded. "Just don't buy a goat. I don't care what you do, just no goats." His face dropped.

"How did you even know I was considering a goat?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I know you, Sherlock Holmes," Molly teased. His face made that pouty kicked puppy dog look.

"Not gonna work," she sang. He pulled her to him and began to nibble playfully at her ear.

"Please, Molly?" he whispered.

"N-no." His lips moved to her neck, pressing soft, warm kisses against her skin. "Oh, fine," she sighed. He lifted his head to capture her lips.

"Thank you," he told her.

"Mhmm, but you're going to be responsible for it, not me. Only one goat, Sherlock," Molly said firmly.

"Agreed. Now, why don't I treat you to a very good morning?" Sherlock asked with a wink. She followed him excitedly into their cottage. The rest of that morning was spent in bed.

And a very good morning it was indeed.


	19. I Prefer Blondes

**drabble request from stlgeekgirl on tumblr: "I prefer blondes." Crack!Fic.**

* * *

"You're being rude!" Molly scolded.

"You're being unreasonable!" Sherlock argued.

"You're too stubborn," Molly countered.

John and Greg stood in the lab watching this strange argument unfold. They had walked in on it, not knowing what had started it to begin with, but it was amusing.

"Would you just listen to me?" Sherlock asked.

"Not a chance," Molly replied curtly.

"You're being mean; I prefer it when you're nice," he complained.

"I prefer it when you're not being a total git," Molly told him.

"Yeah? Well, I prefer blondes!" Sherlock exclaimed. John and Greg looked on in confusion as Molly burst out laughing with Sherlock.

"What was that, Sherlock?" she laughed.

"I was just trying to break the tension," he explained.

"Well, it worked," Molly said, doubling over with giggles.

"Uh, what were you two fighting about?" Greg asked.

"She was sitting at the lab table I always use for my experiments and I promptly removed her," Sherlock informed them.

"That's all?" John asked. "You two are something." Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and made a face.

"Molly, you only put one sugar in," he whined.

"Serves you right," she said, sticking her tongue out.

"Very mature," Sherlock remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Ugh, you dark and broody types. Maybe I prefer blondes," Molly teased.

"Really?" he asked.

"Of course not, you silly man," she laughed. "Come here and I'll give you more sugar." John and Greg turned away from their make-up snogging.

"Strangest relationship I've ever seen," Greg commented with a chuckle.


	20. Bossy

**drabble request from rooneykmara on tumblr: "I'm not your boss? Well then who is?" Post-ASiB, total canon divergence.**

* * *

"Molly I need those thumbs now," Sherlock demanded.

"Not right now, Sherlock," she replied.

"Molly," he said with a warning tone.

"You listen to me, Sherlock Holmes! You are not my boss and this is my lab as long as I am employed here," Molly scolded him.

"Oh? I'm not your boss? Well then who is?" Sherlock challenged.

"Mike Stamford, you daft-"

"Molly! How's my favorite pathologist? Are those tests being ran?" Mike asked, bursting into the lab.

"Yes, they're being ran right now," Molly informed him, turning to flash a quick glare at Sherlock who huffed in annoyance.

"Wonderful, thank you," he praised her. "He's not giving you trouble is he?"

"Oh no, not at all," Molly laughed. Mike exited the lab, leaving the quarreling 'lovebirds' at it. He always thought there was a fire between them.

"Thumbs?" Sherlock asked.

"No," she said firmly.

"Alright fine," he pouted. "I'm sorry for being an arse, Molly." Her face softened, but she wasn't trusting him completely.

"Go on," she encouraged.

"I am aware that I have hurt you more on Christmas night than you let on," Sherlock sighed. "I truly am sorry. I don't want the thumbs. Never did."

"Then what do you want?" Molly asked. He stepped closer, the gap between them almost nonexistent.

"An entirely different set of body parts," Sherlock told her, his voice almost a whisper.

Wh-what would that be?" she inquired nervously.

"Your lips," he murmured before leaning in to brush his lips gently against hers. After the initial shock wore off, Molly responded quite passionately, carding her fingers in his dark broke the kiss and looked into his eyes which were now a stormy blue.

"Sherlock," she whispered, but could not form any words beyond that.

"That's the kind of Christmas you deserved, Molly Hooper. And thank you for the scarf you made me," Sherlock told her, his voice soft. "I will make sure to wear it often." She threw her arms around him and kissed him again, pushing him against the wall. Today, she was his boss.


	21. Enough

**requested by emotional-context on tumblr: Sherlolly + Enough (for the one word prompts)**

* * *

Enough. Funny how the word didn't apply to his relationship with Molly. The truth was, it was never enough. He could never get enough of her sweet kisses, her warm embraces and gentle way of making love to him. The ways she'd caress his heart with her loving words and lingering presence in his arms.

He could never get enough of nuzzling his nose with hers, trailing kisses across her soft skin and waking up next to her in tangles. He found that he could never get enough of hearing those three little words. He couldn't say it enough either. It was the way they were.

Sherlock Holmes had had enough of Moriarty's schemes, the stupidity of Anderson, the annoying goldfish of the world, but he would never ever be able to get enough of Molly Hooper. She was the woman he loved. They were almost lovers at one point, but even he knew that almost was never enough. Now she lay in his arms, soaking up one another's presence, listening to the steady thrumming of their hearts beating as one.

 _I've wasted enough time. Enough is enough_ , Sherlock thought as he pulled out the little velvet box, ready to take on the next journey with her.


	22. Riddles

**drabble prompted by rebka18 on tumblr: #108, I'm glad you're mine.**

* * *

Sherlock was bored needless to say. He hadn't had a good case in almost three weeks. There weren't any interesting autopsies to attend lately either. Molly had told him she would text him if anything out of the ordinary showed up. One day, he came home to 221B with takeout for him and Molly when he saw a note on the door with a riddle written in her hand.

 _A murderer is condemned to death. He has to choose between 3 rooms:_

 _the first is full of raging fires  
_ _the second, assassins with loaded guns_ _the third, lions who haven't eaten in years_

 _Which room is safest? (figure it out and you may just get a prize ;p)_

Sherlock smiled to himself at Molly's attempt to keep him occupied. He took the note and entered the flat to find Molly reading a book on the sofa.

"The third room," Sherlock spoke up with a smirk. Molly looked at him with amusement.

"Oh? And why is that?" she asked.

"The lions hadn't been fed in years; they died from starvation," Sherlock explained. "Most people would overlook that fact."

"Impressive, Mister Holmes," Molly smiled.

"I do believe you said I'd get a prize," he teased as he seated himself next to her.

"Not quite yet. One more riddle," Molly told him. He waited for her to continue. "A woman shoots her husband, then holds him under water for five minutes. A little while later, they both go out and enjoy a wonderful dinner together. How can this be?"

"First of all, should I be worried for my life, Mrs. Holmes?" Sherlock joked.

"Nothing to worry about, just solve it," Molly laughed.

"She shot her husband with a camera; a snapshot, if you will. She then developed the photo before going out to dinner," Sherlock replied. He lowered his voice then. "I appreciate your murder riddles, but I would very much love to snog you right now." His lips were hovering just above hers.

"You've more than earned your prize," she teased.

"'I'm glad you're mine," he whispered before pressing his lips tenderly against hers.


	23. Turn of Events

**drabble prompt from Mizjoely on Tumblr: #2, "Can you shut up for five minutes, please?"**

* * *

Molly had been acting strange lately. Sherlock's mind worked overtime at night when he tried to deduce what could possibly be wrong. Had he said something awful? Had he hurt her in any way? He didn't think he had. Their relationship was in a wonderful place. For once, the great Sherlock Holmes was stumped, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He found her in the lab sitting in his usual spot, using the microscope.

"Sherlock, hey," she greeted when he walked in.

"Molly, we need to talk. I don't know what I've done wrong or if I did anything at all but I am sorry if I hurt you in any way. Have I been neglectful or rude? I promise I will make it up to you, but you need to tell me why you've been avoiding me because I simply cannot-mmph!" She kissed his lips firmly, effectively silencing him.

"Can you shut up for five minutes, please?" Molly laughed. He didn't dare speak another word. "Look, I know it's probably an unusual turn of events but I need to ask you something." Sherlock waited for her to continue, encouraging her with his eyes locked on hers. "I've been thinking about this for a while as to whether it's the right path for us but I realized the only way to find out was to ask, so here goes nothing. Sherlock Holmes, I love you. Do you think-well, would you possibly consider marrying me?"

"That's what all of your strange behaviour was about?" Sherlock mused, unable to say anything else. Better to say that than to go into buffering mode. He chuckled then.

"What's so funny?" she asked. Molly watched as Sherlock dug into the inside of his Belstaff's inner pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

"What's funny is that I was going to ask you the same thing," he smiled.

"So is that a yes?" Molly questioned with a giggle.

"Of course. It was always you," Sherlock spoke softly, taking out the ring and sliding it on her finger where it would stay for the rest of their lives.


	24. The Floor is Lava

**drabble prompt from the lovely Mychakk on Tumblr: #8, "the floor is lava." a bit of tipsy!lock.**

* * *

Sherlock spun Molly around as they swayed lazily to Glen Miller's _Moonlight Serenade_. They had had one too many glasses of wine which resulted in clumsy kisses but Molly didn't mind. He was much more affected by their choice of beverage than she was and it amused her greatly. Suddenly, he lifted her up onto the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Molly giggled.

"The floor is lava, Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed, stepping up onto the coffee table in front of her. She leaned in to kiss him but he began moving from the table to the desk, knocking a stack of papers over. She followed laughing the entire time. When her short legs couldn't reach over the distance to the desk, Sherlock picked her up and set her down.

"You are the silliest man I've ever known," she told him.

"Well, I hope that's a good thing," he chuckled before placing kisses all over her face.

"Very good thing," Molly mumbled. Suddenly she jumped from the desk and onto his chair, swaying slightly.

"Budge over," Sherlock said before joining her. She swayed once more when the chair dipped with his weight. He held her to him to balance the both of them. "I won't let you fall."

"I always catch you when you fall," Molly murmured as she kissed his neck.

"Mm, I know. I lurrrve you, Molly," he slurred adorably.

"I lurve you too," she laughed warmly.


	25. Meow

**drabble prompt from Mychakk on Tumblr: #32, "I thought you didn't like cats." A bit of a post-TRF AU.**

* * *

The first time Sherlock used Molly's bedroom as a bolt hole was the day he faked his death. He was to stay with her for at least a week before setting out to take down Moriarty's network.

"Toby?" Molly called out quietly. The consulting detective was asleep in her bed and she couldn't find her cat anywhere. As she tiptoed into her bedroom, she saw Toby curled up atop Sherlock's mass of onyx curls. Stepping closer as softly as she could, Molly reached out for the feline. "Come on Toby, Sherlock's not gonna be happy about this," she said in a whisper.

"Why wouldn't I be happy about it?" he asked, opening his eyes to see her leaning over him.

"Well, I thought you didn't like cats," was all she could manage.

"Your feline companion doesn't bother me," Sherlock replied. "But I'd rather have a human companion at the moment." His eyes gazed into hers intensely. She couldn't look away. "Stay with me?" Molly nodded and promptly removed Toby from off of his head and placed him in his tiny bed on the floor. She then slipped under the covers next to him awkwardly. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against his chest. Molly immediately relaxed in his embrace.

"I'm gonna miss you," Molly spoke solemnly.

"I'll miss you too," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss in her hair.


	26. Of Babies and Beehives

**drabble prompt from Mychakk on Tumblr: #54, "Why's there a pregnancy test in the trash?"**

* * *

Molly returned home to 221B from a long day at work. Sherlock was in his mind palace on the sofa. Upon deciding that a warm bubble bath is just what she needed, Molly gathered her pajamas and ventured into the bathroom. That's when she noticed a little pink box in the trash.

"Sherlock!" she shouted. He came running frantically.

"Molly? Are you alright? What's wrong?" he panicked.

"Why's there a pregnancy test in the trash?" Molly asked with confusion.

"Well, you see, I was conducting an experiment on-"

"Nope," she stopped him.

"It's Mrs. Hudson's?" he attempted.

"Sherlock, out with it," Molly told him. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked nervous.

"I want us to have a baby," Sherlock blurted. Molly laughed but his face was far from joking.

"Oh, you're serious," Molly realized. "God, Sherlock, are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I want to start a family of our own and maybe we can buy a cottage in the country; maybe Sussex or even Dorset. I could begin beekeeping when we retire there permanently and-" he faltered when she kissed him softly.

"That sounds lovely, Sherlock, but maybe we should wait until after our wedding this weekend?" she laughed.


	27. Love and Marriage

**drabble prompt from Mychakk on Tumblr: #94, "You're an idiot. I married an idiot."**

* * *

She kept dropping hints, but no matter what, Sherlock just didn't seem to pick up on them.

"You know, Sherlock, I'm absolutely _craving_ Angelo's lasagna tonight," Molly said dramatically.

"I'll pick some up, darling, it's no problem," he replied without looking away from his laptop.

* * *

The next night, she tried a more obvious approach.

"Sherlock, can you check the oven to make sure I didn't leave anything in there before you do your experiment?" she called out from the sitting room. He sat at the kitchen table with his microscope.

"Molly, what's this bun doing in the oven?" he asked in confusion.

"A bun in the oven," she laughed but he didn't understand. "Don't you get it?" Nothing. "Oh bugger, you're an idiot. I married an idiot." His jaw dropped in offense.

"Oh," he spoke quietly, then, "OH! You're pregnant?"

"Now you're getting it," she said as she approached him.

"I should've known sooner. How did I not deduce it? I'm an idiot," he stated.

"Yes, but you're my idiot," she smiled. He lifted her from the ground and spun her around with delight, snogging her all the while.

"We're having a baby," he mused in wonderment, brushing his fingers across her abdomen. "Brilliant! Oh, it's Christmas!"


	28. Date Night

**prompted by StrangeLock221B on Tumblr (Dreamin on here): #97, "You're so cute when you pout like that."**

* * *

Sherlock was truly excited for tonight. He and Molly were having a night in together for date night and he always looked forward to their indoor shenanigans. There was no idea in his head about what she had cooked up this time. Molly always knew what to suggest for things they both enjoyed.

His phone lit up with a video call from her. Sherlock answered to see her dressed for work.

"Molly?"

"Hey Sherlock, I'm sorry but I've just been called in and I have to do these autopsies," Molly explained.

"Why can't the other pathologist do it?" he asked.

"They're out sick, I'm afraid. I'm so so sorry to cancel, but I'll make it up to you, I promise," Molly told him. He pouted like a sad puppy dog, the light gone from his eyes.

"Alright, if anything points to foul play, let me know," he said solemnly.

"You're so cute when you pout like that," Molly told him. "I'll turn that frown upside down, I promise." He gave her a small smile.

"Have a good night," he told her.

"I'll try," she said before blowing him a kiss and hanging up.

* * *

Four hours later, his phone pinged.

 **I'd so much rather be home with you. MH xx**

 **I prefer that option as well. SH**

 **How ironic would it be to die of boredom in a morgue? MH**

 **Really, Molly? Wow, you just said that. SH**

 **I know. Terrible joke. But honestly, I might. MH**

 **We can't have that, now. SH**

 **I'd miss you too much. SH**

 **I miss you right now. MH xx**

* * *

Molly hadn't received a text back from him. By some miracle, he might've actually fallen asleep. She felt completely drained with the two autopsies finished and nothing else to do but have the bland coffee from the canteen.

Suddenly, Sherlock swept in with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" Molly asked. "Oh God, there hasn't been a murder has there? I don't think I have the strength to do another autopsy."

"No," Sherlock chuckled. "No murder...unfortunately. I brought chips." He held out a takeaway bag. "I figured we could have date night here."

"In the morgue?" Molly giggled. "Well, you are full of surprises, Sherlock Holmes."

"Mm, I know," he replied playfully arrogant before kissing her softly.


	29. Not Her

**warning: angst train is coming. prompted by dmollyc on Tumblr: #6, "You can't die. Please don't die."**

* * *

Sherlock was in the middle of a case with John and Greg when he got the call.

 _"Hello, Mr. Holmes? Yours is the number we have on the emergency contact information for Margaret Hooper. She's been in a car accident. A drunk driver hit the taxi she was occupying."_

His face fell, nearly dropping his phone. He stopped in the middle of the warehouse where they were investigating. _Not her._

"Sherlock?" John said with concern.

"You alright, mate?" Greg asked.

"Molly's been in a car accident. I have to go. Now," Sherlock told them, running out of the warehouse.

* * *

Sherlock overlooked her surgery from above, tears falling from his eyes when her heart rate started dropping. They were trying desperately to stop the internal bleeding she had suffered.

"You can't die. Please don't die," his voice broke with each word. "Molly, please. I need you. I love you." Thankfully, they successfully stopped the bleeding and she was stabilized. He followed them to the recovery room that Molly was moved into.

"She may have some temporary memory loss, but she will live," the nurse explained when Sherlock entered the room. He seated himself in the chair beside her bed. She hadn't come around from the anaesthetic yet. He held her hand gently, sliding his thumb across the back of it. No words were said as Sherlock silently prayed to a deity he did not believe in as he gazed upon his Molly. The love of his life. She slowly came to and Sherlock sat back as the nurse explained what happened and how the operation went. Molly nodded in understanding. Afterwards, her eyes found Sherlock's.

"Hey you," she spoke, her voice rough.

"Molly," he began, "I thought I was going to lose you."

"It's gonna take more than that to get rid of me," she smirked.

"I don't want to get rid of you," he told her in all seriousness. She was a bit groggy from the anaesthetic.

"To think you were worried about a criminal getting to me; turns out as normal as a car accident," Molly remarked. His face was stricken with horror. "Sorry. Trying to make light of the situation."

"I know," Sherlock replied. He still had tears staining his cheeks.

"I love you, Sherlock," Molly said, lifting his hand to her lips, kissing his fingertips.

"I love you too, Molly. So very much, darling," he cried with relief. "I love you."


	30. E for Effort

**prompt from theresadunn on tumblr: #29,** ** _"_** ** _It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line."_**

* * *

Sherlock was, needless to say, awkward around Molly after Sherrinford, though she never gave him reason to be. He had told her the whole story and she had comforted him, never mind her. They were still friends; best friends, to be perfectly honest. John Watson had the privilege to witness each mess Sherlock made of himself. It was rather amusing.

* * *

"Molly, can you pass me that slide please?" he asked as he wrote his observations.

"Here you are," she replied, offering the slide to him. He looked up at Molly in her bright yellow blouse and lab coat with her hair braided and pinned like a crown on her head. "Sherlock?" John stood by as his best friend entered 'buffering mode.' The reality set in and John finally realized the truth; Sherlock fancied Molly. He loved her and was not exactly well-equipped to deal with it.

"You. Look...sunny," Sherlock managed to force out. His face showed a look of inward mortification over the awful attempt at flirting.

"Umm, thanks I...guess?" Molly told him, slowly backing away from the lab desk. "I'm just gonna get a coffee." And she was out the door in a flash.

"Alright, mate, I won't say that was a disaster but," John paused. "It was a disaster."

"You just said you weren't going to say it," Sherlock huffed.

"Yea," John responded, "I lied."

* * *

Sherlock avoided the lab for at least a week after that; only coming into the morgue once for a case. Here he was, once more, in the mortuary, not paying attention to Molly whatsoever in an attempt to avoid another mess. Greg stood by John as the consulting detective examined the body with his favourite pathologist.

"Lacerations covering his palms," Molly muttered, "indicates that he tried defending himself against the murderer's weapon; most likely to be metal, like a pipe or-"

"This isn't Cluedo, Molly," Sherlock sighed.

"But it's still a possibility, Professor Plum," Molly teased, gesturing to the aubergine shirt he wore.

"Oh? And what does that make you? Miss Scarlet?" he remarked with a chuckle. John was surprised that the teasing had seemed to improve. Then, their eyes locked intensely. A little too much.

"Eh, do you know what's going on with them?" Greg spoke quietly. John only raised a finger to his own lips, telling Greg to keep quiet. They looked on as the never-ending gaze continued. The detective inspector took out his phone, ready to film what would happen next.

"Y-your eyes are...a preferable shade of brown...like...chocolate," Sherlock stumbled out.

"Ooh," Greg sympathized, "that's gonna hurt in the morning."

"I-I mean your-I could-"

"Sherlock," Molly laughed, "it must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line." She continued laughing as Sherlock gaped at her offending him. "Just ask me out already, you numpty."

"I love you," he blurted out much to his embarrassment.

"I know," Molly told him. "I've known for a while now." She cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. "I love you too." Sherlock's shoulders seemed to sag with relief that the nightmare of a day was over. Applause was heard from behind them; John, Greg and now Mike stood there clapping.

"It's about time," Mike laughed. "I had to watch years of this."

"Join the club," John remarked.


	31. Raging Storm

**requested by elennemigo on Tumblr:** **27\. "I'm not going to apologise for this. Not anymore." Post-TFP.**

 **Look up and listen to this on Youtube to set the mood:** Thunderstorm and Rain Sounds - Heavy Thunder & lightning Strike Ambience For Relaxation

* * *

He apologized to her that night. After all was said and done, Molly had forgiven him but he could not forgive himself. She understood he was saving her life...or so he thought. Weeks passed and during the few times he did see her at the lab or the morgue, he apologized every time. Sherlock couldn't understand what exactly was going on in his head, let alone his heart. They were battling with each other; logic vs. emotion.

"I don't know what to do," Sherlock admitted to John. "I'm clueless for the first time in my life."

"Just tell her how you feel, mate," John told him. He wanted to. Badly. Logic dictated that it was nothing but a distraction and that she deserved someone better. His heart screamed in protest, its voice much louder than his head's for once. Sherlock knew he was a selfish man, but did not know what made him more so: letting her go and never telling her or confessing despite that she should have a better man than him.

* * *

On a stormy night, in his mind palace, Sherlock went back to the day they went out crime solving together. Their incredibly private moment in the stairwell replayed itself in his mind. He was outside of his own body, watching from the stairs above. The same aching feeling in his chest presented itself with no mercy as the bittersweet memory played out. The wistfulness that shown on his face as he leaned into her was clear. He already let her go once; was he really willing to do so again?

"Sherlock? Where are you going? The storm is raging out there," Mrs. Hudson told him as he swept down the stairs.

"There's something I have to do," was all he said.

* * *

Arriving at Molly's flat, he realized she wasn't home. So he waited out in the storm until a cab pulled up minutes later and Molly stepped out as she searched for her keys. When she looked up and met his cerulean eyes in the darkness of the night, her heart beat fast in her chest.

"Sherlock!? What are you doing? You'll catch your death out here," Molly spoke loudly over the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement. She made his way over to him and attempted to get him to follow her inside but he grasped her wrist gently.

"I'm sorr-" he began but stopped himself. "No. I'm not going to apologise for this. Not anymore." He pulled her flush against him and he cupped her cheek before leaning down to press his lips against hers. Molly's hands found their way into his damp curls, holding on for dear life as he continued to crush his lips to hers. Even as thunder sounded and the lightning streaked the sky, nothing compared to the raging storm between them. As they savored the delicious taste of each other in sweet surrender, he held her tighter and she twisted his curls in her fingers. Never had she been kissed like this. It was everything to give him love and for him to love her back.

"I love you," Sherlock murmured against her lips as they slowed down. The light feather-like feeling of his soft kisses left her tingling. Their foreheads were now pressed against one another's when she broke the kiss for the need of breathing.

"I love you too," she breathed out heavily. "Always have; always will." Sherlock moved his head from hers and pressed a lingering kiss to her neck.

"We should get you inside; don't need you catching a cold," he told her.

"I can think of a few ways to warm up," she smirked as she led him inside.

* * *

Their hair was still damp despite their long night of love-making. He peered down at the petite woman in his arms happily, her head resting over his heart. He traced his thumb in circles over the soft skin of her shoulder. Resting his head on top of hers, he pressed a kiss in her hair before the sound of her sleeping breaths lulled him to his own slumber.


	32. Wait, What?

**the lovely juldooz on Tumblr requested: #13,** ** _"_** ** _I could kiss you right now!"_**

* * *

It all happened in the sitting room of 221B. Mrs. Hudson was making tea in the kitchen for everyone. John and Mary sat on the sofa with a one year old Rosie climbing over top of them and Molly stood by Greg as Sherlock paced the room. He was in the midst of a complicated case that the detective inspector had passed on to him.

"Motive, motive," Sherlock muttered to himself. "I can't figure out a motive. All signs point to Mr. Fields but it doesn't make sense." He raised his voice in frustration, causing Molly to jump a bit. She had never seen him so vexed before. "It was his blood, I'm sure of it. There's even CCTV footage of him leaving from that direction."

The room was silent for a moment until Molly's voice broke through.

"If I may?" she asked. Sherlock's head snapped up to look at her.

"Yes?" he encouraged.

"Well, there's the chance that maybe Mr. Fields has an identical twin. It would explain why the blood is the same because they share DNA. As for motive, maybe his twin resented him for some reason and wanted to frame him," Molly explained. "I know you say it's never twins, but it's the only plausible explanation. At least to me."

"Perhaps you're right," Sherlock mused. John furrowed his eyebrows from surprise. "Yes, Molly you're brilliant! I could kiss you right now!" Not only was his exclamation shocking, but the sight of him snogging her in the moment had everybody's jaw dropping. He stepped back a mere twenty seconds after it happened and looked at her in amazement. Nobody said a word as they observed the pair gaping at one another.

Sherlock stepped forward more slowly in the same way he did during that disastrous Christmas party and cupped her cheek with his hand. Then he leaned down to capture her lips once more. It was soft and gentle. It was as if they didn't see anyone else in the room but each other. Once he broke the kiss, he spoke again.

"Lestrade, research to see about Mr. Fields' twin brother," he told him, his eyes never leaving Molly's. "I have something important to tend to."

"Like what?" Greg asked, still amazed by what he had just witnessed.

"I would like to take Miss Hooper out to dinner," Sherlock smirked. She took the hand he offered her and they left the flat filled with the excitement of this new development.


	33. Fake Date?

**requested by mychakk: #23, _"Just pretend to be my date."_**

* * *

"Sherlock, hey, I have those-whoa," Molly was interrupted by a firm snog as she entered 221B. He traced his lips over her cheek and stopped at her ear.

"Just pretend to be my date," Sherlock whispered quietly.

"Now, Sherlock, aren't you going to properly introduce us?" Mrs. Holmes questioned.

"Mummy, father," he spoke, "this is Molly. My date."

"So we finally get to meet the infamous Doctor Molly Hooper," Mr. Holmes beamed. Sherlock's face turned a suspicious shade of crimson.

"Lovely to meet you both," Molly replied.

"Sherlock, I told you that it's your turn to take them to the theatre," Mycroft complained as he entered the flat.

"Hush now, Mikey, he can't. Don't you see he has a date tonight?" Mrs. Holmes pointed out. The grimace on Mycroft's lips caused Molly to stifle a laugh. His displeased expression changed into one of mischief.

"Oh, of course, how could I forget?" Mycroft smiled. Actually smiled. "Poor Sherlock's been pining over Miss Hooper since his return to London." The brothers glared at each other now.

"Sherlock?" Molly's gentle tone brought his attention to her. She placed her gloved hand against his forearm as a way of comforting him.

"Well," Sherlock began, "we should be going." He guided Molly out of the flat, his hand hovering over the small of her back. Once they hit the sidewalk, Molly stopped him in his tracks.

"Is it true?" she asked. He didn't answer but the look in his eyes as he gazed into hers was all she needed to see that it was. Sherlock Holmes had been pining over her.

"You can go back to Tom now. Sorry to throw you in the middle of that," he spoke quietly.

"Sherlock," she said softly, removing her gloves. His eyes immediately shifted to her left hand. No ring. Upon his realization, Molly smiled.

"So how about that date?" Sherlock asked shyly.

"Sounds perfect. I think I'd fancy some chips," Molly laughed.


	34. Reassurance

**mychakk requested #45,** ** _"_** ** _I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you're okay."_**

* * *

 _Blood matted her chestnut locks to her face. She wasn't dead yet but she was dying quickly._

 _"Molly, no," Sherlock muttered in horror. "No. No no no no no!" He kept repeating it as if it would keep her from going under._

 _"Sherlock," she spoke roughly, her small hand wrapping itself around his fingers._

 _"Please don't leave me," he said sadly, his voice breaking. The tears welling up in his eyes fell fast. She struggled to lift her arm but managed to wipe the tears from his cheek._

 _"I love you," was the last phrase he heard her voice say before her heart stopped beating._

Sherlock sat up quickly, causing a bout of dizziness. He pressed his palms to his face, sliding them down to get rid of the tears. Though he was relieved that it was only a nightmare, nothing stopped him from throwing on his coat over his pajamas and hailing a cab.

* * *

Molly awoke to the frantic knocking at her door. Groggily, she slipped out of bed, threw on her dressing gown and crept toward the noise.

"Sherlock, it's almost two in the morning-" she trailed off as she took in his distressed state. "What's wrong? What's happened?" His lips were caressing every inch of her face before crashing onto her mouth.

"You're alive," he murmured over and over as he kissed her. Sherlock stopped suddenly, wrapping his arms around her, and leaned down to press his ear against her chest, listening for the thrumming of her heart. Molly stroked his curls gently, understanding his need to reassure himself that she was fine. He turned his head ever so slightly to drop soft kisses over her heart.

"It's okay, love. I'm here," Molly told him. "What happened?" He straightened himself up and allowed her to guide him to the sofa.

"I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Sherlock answered. Molly kissed his forehead and then his lips.

"Everything's alright. I'm here, Sherlock. It was just a bad dream," she reassured him.

"I don't want you to leave me," was all he said.

"I won't ever leave you," Molly promised. "Come on, you can stay with me tonight. Would that make you feel better?" He nodded, a small smile gracing his lips.

"There's my Sherlock," she smiled, leading him to the bedroom. He curled around her once they slipped under the duvet and didn't let go all night.


	35. Ever So Subtle

**prompted by mychakk: #53,** ** _"_** ** _I'm flirting with you."_ Post-TST but Mary's still alive.**

* * *

"Ah, Molly, what a lovely surprise," Sherlock grinned.

"Surprise? You asked me to bring you more thumbs," Molly laughed.

"Yes, well, Rosamund and I did not expect you so early," he explained.

"You're watching Rosie?" she asked. He nodded in confirmation. "By yourself?"

"Yes, of course," Sherlock defended. "Why does everyone find me incapable of caring for my goddaughter?"

"Never said you were incapable," Molly shouted from the kitchen. Rosie was gurgling as she played with the activity gym set between the two chairs. She walked back to the sitting room and set herself down on the floor next to their goddaughter. "You're a happy baby today, aren't you?" Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the scene before him.

"So, Molly," he began. "You look...becoming. And your intellect is most admirable."

"Um, thanks," she inwardly cursed herself for blushing. He watched a few moments longer as Molly played with Rosie. She was always glowing in the presence of the little Watson.

"You know," Sherlock spoke up, "motherhood would look well on you." Molly looked up at him, furrowing her brows at the strange remark.

"Where is all this coming from?" she questioned.

"Well, Rosamund, it seems your Aunt Molly sees but does not observe," he teased. The look on her face displayed her confusion plainly.

"I'm flirting with you," Sherlock elaborated. Molly's eyes fluttered in realization and her lips softened into a smile. He joined her on the floor, taking her hand in his. "Domestic bliss would look well on you too."

"Oh?" Molly replied. "However will I find it?"

"I hope you will find it with me," he spoke softly. Molly cupped his cheek, tracing her thumb along his cheekbone. She inched forward, her lips tenderly caressing his.

John and Mary arrived moments later to pick up Rosie only to find them snogging.

"Look at you two playing house," Mary teased. John gaped at the sight of Sherlock and Molly. They separated quickly at the sound of Mary's voice. Their faces were flushed from being caught.

"But you-Molly-I, what?" was all John stammered.

"You owe me fifty quid," Mary smirked at her husband.


	36. Unexpected

**prompted by mychakk: #58,** ** _"_** ** _I've been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you." pre-ASiP. AU._**

* * *

"This pathologist had better be competent, Stamford," Sherlock remarked.

"For my sake, I hope so too," Mike muttered under his breath. They entered the morgue to find the new pathologist preparing for an autopsy.

"Oh, Mike, hey, who's this?" she asked. Sherlock blinked rapidly, his mind racing. _Same chestnut hair, same sweet smile and those big brown eyes._

"You remember I mentioned Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes," Mike replied. "I'll leave you two to be acquainted."

"Molly. Molly Hooper," Sherlock stated when Mike left.

"Y-you know me?" Molly questioned.

"Yes; don't you remember me?" his tone portrayed a sliver of heartache.

"I've never known anyone named Sherlock; I'm sorry but I've no idea who you are," she told him with a sympathetic smile.

"We met at the park every Saturday when we were kids. You defended me from anyone who made fun of me for being different. I've been in love with you my entire life. Ever since the day I first met you. I never thought I'd see you again," Sherlock rambled on.

"William," Molly realized. "Oh my-wait, you're in love with me?"

"Yes, Molly, I am. Very much so," he confirmed, his voice soft. Sherlock reached inside of his Belstaff and pulled out an old polaroid photo. It was a candid his mother had taken of him and Molly in the sitting room of his house playing Cluedo. They were older in that photo; Molly was twelve and Sherlock, fourteen.

"I loved you so much," she mused. Sherlock winced at her use of the past tense, his heart aching. Molly noticed his change in demeanor. "And I never stopped."

"What are the odds?" he smiled.

"No idea; but the odds are definitely in our favour," Molly answered, rising up on her toes to press her lips to his.


	37. Catch Me

**prompted by mychakk: #75,** ** _"_** ** _You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes."_ Uni!Lock**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes was the most infuriating man Molly had ever known. It was bad enough they were lab partners but now, his dorm was right across from hers this year. She was attracted to him, of course, but damn him for being so abrasive at times. He had his good moments, she'd give him that but today, she had decided to put her foot down.

The heatwave was unusual for London. It was early May and there was only a couple weeks left of the school year. Molly had stormed out of the chemistry lab quickly after her typical day of arguing with Sherlock. She hadn't heard him come after her though. The sun was hot and beating down on her viciously. Unused to the sweltering heat, Molly felt a bit woozy. Before she knew it, she had blacked out and woken up in her dorm an hour later.

"How did I get here?" she breathed heavily, sitting up quickly.

"You fainted, straight into my arms," Sherlock told her. He stood by her desk. "You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes." His arrogant smirk is what set her off.

"Sherlock Holmes, how dare you pretend to flirt with me," Molly stood in front of him now. She felt weak again and Sherlock held her close.

"Don't work yourself up, Molly, you need more water," he told her as he scooped her up in his arms and set her on the bed again. He grabbed an ice cold water and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she spoke quietly before gulping half of it down.

"What makes you think I was pretending?" Sherlock asked, sitting down next to her.

"Because it's what you do when you want something from me," Molly answered. Her voice betrayed her by breaking on the last word.

"You're right; I do want something from you, but I've been a total git in the way I've attempted it," he admitted. She locked eyes with him, surprised by his words.

"What do you want?" she asked, afraid to know the answer.

"You," he smiled. "Only you." She curled into him, allowing his arms to wrap themselves around her. Molly felt his lips press into her hair. "I am sorry, Molly. I've done a rubbish job of persuing you."

"S'okay," she murmured against his shoulder. "Thank you for taking care of me." They sat there like that until she fell asleep and he gently laid her down, covering her with the duvet. He kissed her forehead and slipped out of the dorm, happy that Molly knew how he felt.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** this is the last chapter! Thank y'all so much for your prompts and reviews!


	38. Pictures of You

**requested by laqueencita on Tumblr , #30 "Way to not like my Instagram post."**

* * *

Sherlock never did things the easy way. He could have just told Molly he meant it, but pictures spoke louder than words.

They continued to be friends, closer than ever before. Sherlock had taken to documenting his life with photos. He liked them best as candid and chose to use his Instagram as a photo album. Chemical defect be damned; he was a sentimental person deep down and wasn't afraid to show it anymore.

As he focused on studying the slide beneath the microscope, Molly tugged her hair band out, allowing her chestnut tresses to spill over her shoulder. This caught his eye, as Sherlock had always loved the rare times she let it down. She was catching up on paperwork from the day's autopsies. He snapped a quick photo of her and uploaded it, the caption read ' _The love of my life. Her beauty shines inside and out._ '

* * *

He waited for days to see if she noticed his latest post but no comment was made; not even a like.

"Way to not like my Instagram post," he joked when he arrived at the lab.

"What?" she asked, clearly confused.

"I thought you would have liked the recent post I made," Sherlock explained.

"Sherlock, I didn't even know you had Instagram," Molly laughed. "It didn't seem like your thing; sentimentality and all."

"I knew I forgot to tell you something," he realized. She laughed once more and took her phone out to find and follow him, but not before noticing the photo he took of her. Hesitantly, she tapped on it and tears welled up in her eyes as she read the caption.

"Sherlock," she spoke softly, "why didn't you just tell me?"

"I didn't think you'd believe me after what happened," Sherlock admitted.

"I've always known, you silly man," Molly smiled before sealing the rest of their lives with a kiss.


	39. I Wouldn't Change a Thing

**requested by the lovely juldooz: #67, "If I could go back, I wouldn't change anything."**

* * *

Everything felt so broken. Sherlock felt shattered and berated himself for getting Molly into such a mess, as he watched her heart break right in front of his eyes during the phone call. His heart ached with longing and the painful knowledge that he had hurt her.

But here, in her arms, he felt that things could be okay; that maybe, she could forgive him. For everything. In fact, that's what she was whispering to him.

"It's gonna be okay," Molly repeated like a mantra. "It's not your fault."

He tried so hard to keep it in but he was tired of hiding and repressing himself for the sake of cold logic. Molly deserved to see him; all of him. After all, he trusted nobody else with the fragility of his heart which had shattered into jagged pieces from the earlier events.

Molly felt his silent tears hit her neck and was unable to hold back her own. They held each other for what felt like hours, here in her bed, Sherlock's face still buried in the crook of her neck. Her fingers soothed him with the gentle twisting of his curls with one hand while the other traced patterns on his back.

"I'm sorry; I'm so sorry, Molly," he murmured against her skin. It felt like he was kissing her as he spoke and she couldn't suppress the chill that overcame her.

"Sherlock, it wasn't your fault," she insisted. "But I forgive you all the same."

"It's not the way it should've been," he spoke more clearly, his eyes boring into hers.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"That's not how I wanted to tell you," he admitted. "Those words were ripped from us and it's all wrong."

"I should have never forced it out of you," Molly told him. "I feel awful for that, but honestly, if I could go back, I wouldn't change anything."

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

"We're not exactly normal, are we?" Molly laughed. "Of course, it would take a situation such as this for us to clear the air."

"Would you prefer for us to be normal?" he asked.

"Never. I love being different. And I love you, Sherlock Holmes," she spoke softly. He moved in slowly as she did until their lips met in an all consuming kiss. Sherlock didn't hold back, his passion not going unnoticed by Molly. They hummed in pleasure against each other's mouths, their tongues meeting for the first time.

She threw her leg over his, wanting to pull him closer. His lips moved from hers and trailed down her jaw, down to her neck where he pressed open mouthed kisses. Molly held on to him for dear life, trying to remember how to breathe properly as his lips caressed her skin.

"I love you," he whispered. Molly gasped as he pressed kisses along her shoulder and across her clavicle, moving down even further to the slight swell of her breasts. "I love you so much." She savored his words in her heart and he captured her lips once more. Molly broke away and kissed his cheek just as tenderly as he once did. His hand automatically went to his cheek as if that were the best kiss he ever received.

Sherlock pulled her in close and held her, his face buried in her hair, pressing kisses where he could reach. His fingers splayed against her stomach were laced with hers.

"Will you still be here in the morning?" she asked, her voice suddenly small.

"I promise," he replied. "Goodnight my darling Molly."

"Goodnight, Sherlock, my love."


	40. To Fix What's Broken

**rodina2000 on tumblr requested: #25. "This is a once in a lifetime thing and you want me to blow it off!?"**

* * *

Sherlock was debating on whether he should see Molly directly after arriving back in London. It's not that he didn't want to but he was terrified of how she'd react to seeing him. What if she no longer wanted him in her life? He wouldn't blame her; after all, she had waited for him seven years. It's not how it was supposed to be. He would have rather swept her off of her feet than have those words ripped from them.

"Are you going to see Molly?" John asked, his voice breaking through Sherlock's thoughts.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Ah, well, it's probably for the best," John shrugged. Sherlock's brows furrowed in confusion at the nonchalant remark.

"Perhaps Doctor Watson's right," Mycroft piped up. "Best to just allow her space to move on."

"What?" Sherlock asked. All of a sudden, his chest constricted with the thought of her moving on.

"Something about that bothering you, brother mine? After all it's not like you meant it," Mycroft continued.

"This is a once in a lifetime thing and you want me to blow it off!? I'm going to see her and that's final, Mycroft," Sherlock argued.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" the elder Holmes smirked. "Thank you for your help, Doctor Watson."

"It was my pleasure; reverse psychology works every time."

* * *

Sherlock had stopped at Baker Street first to see if he could at least retrieve his violin and some clothes. When he climbed the stairs, he froze in the doorway. There, in the burned up sitting room was Molly Hooper. He could hear the faint sobs coming from her mouth as she actually tried to tidy up the place. Her head turned to see him, wearily holding onto the door frame.

"Oh my God, Sherlock," she cried and flung her arms around him. "I thought you were dead when I hadn't heard from you and then I hear on the telly that Baker Street had been blown to pieces and-" He held her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"It's alright, Molly, I'm here," he soothed her. "I hope you know that I truly love you."

"I know," was all she mumbled into his shoulder.

"The more important question is why were you trying to clean this up all by yourself?" Sherlock asked with an amused smirk.

"I honestly don't know," Molly laughed. "I guess it just made me feel better." She wiped a tear from her eye. "I just feel a bit broken I guess."

"I know how you feel; I have a sister who killed my childhood best friend and tried to kill me. Granted, I had erased her from my mind until finding out recently," Sherlock confessed.

"Okay, you win," she told him. "Tell me about it? When you're ready, I mean."

"We'll clean things up together and I'll tell you. Maybe we can fix what's broken," Sherlock remarked.

"The flat or us?" Molly asked.

"Both," he smiled, wrapping her up in his arms.


	41. Pleasantly Unexpected

**Anon on tumblr prompted: "I know when you're lying." "Yeah, how's that?"**

"I know when you're lying." Sherlock ran his hand through his hair for the seventh time; his eyes were marked by dark circles from lack of sleep.

"Yeah, how's that?" Molly questioned him, her curiosity piqued. She was sitting up in a hospital bed, her hair a matted mess.

"You bite your lip when you're keeping something from me; either you're fibbing about your state of well-being, or you've omitted an important detail," he explained, pacing the room nervously. "I come back from a case I took in Essex only to find out you've had an overnight hospital stay. You say everything's fine, but I can see in your eyes that it's not."

"Everything _is_ fine, Sherlock," she argued. Sighing, she added, "At least physically."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Sherlock never raised his voice at her, but it could be just as disheartening when his voice was gruff.

"It means I don't know how you're gonna take the fact that you're gonna be a father." Molly covered her mouth, realising she had let the cat out of the bag. Her bottom lip quivered as the prelude to the tears that began to fall down her cheeks. "We never talked about children, and we've only been together for three months, and God, you probably don't even want one." Her words started to meld together, her voice breaking as she spoke.

Sherlock sat on the bed beside her, wiping her tears away gently with the pads of his thumbs, his hands cradling her face. "Darling, I couldn't be happier!" His heart felt it might burst. "Don't cry, Molly. We're all gonna be alright."

Laughing in relief, Molly leaned into him wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm so glad, Sherlock. I can't tell you how relieved I was to find out. I came in thinking I was going through early menopause, and here, it turns out I'm pregnant! Oh, I can't wait to meet her!"

Sherlock did a double take. "Her? How far along are you?"

"Twelve weeks—I had no idea, but the doctor is fairly certain it's a girl," she smiled. "You really mean it? You want this?"

"I want everything with you, Molly, all of it." He kissed her softly. "Every. Single. Thing."


	42. I Can't Unlove You

**chelseamh98 prompted #26 for Sherlolly: "I forgot to mention that I'm… I'm completely in love with you."**

* * *

Tentatively, Sherlock took a step closer to her, holding her gaze with his. It was for the best; Molly deserved so much more than he could give her. He could've been a territorial git, but he realised he could never be so selfish to do such a thing. Not with Molly, never with Molly. Sherlock knew he loved her in that crucial moment two years ago, but it wasn't until now that he understood just how deep his love for her went. He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn't with him.

Heart racing, difficult to breathe, pupils dilated. Molly saw her own feelings reflected in the eyes of the man she had loved for so damn long. Could it be he? She dismissed the thought. He was so close, and oh God he was leaning down. His lips were headed straight for hers. Molly was gonna let it happen; she'd been craving his touch for years. She was surprised she could look him in the eye in this moment. Those ocean eyes were filled with the wistfulness of what could've been. His lips hovered above hers, nearly touching…almost there. The look in his eyes changed, and he switched tactics, opting to press a kiss to her cheek, just near the corner of her mouth.

He began to walk away, knowing he was too late to be the one to make her happy. This was his way of giving her all the happiness in the world. This Tom fellow sounded suitable enough. He hoped he would treat her right. There was no telling what Sherlock would do if Molly had been mistreated by him. Yes, he loved her more than anything, but the worst part was he knew he could never unlove her. Sherlock opened the door, feeling the crisp, frozen air sting his face. Was this right? Shouldn't she at least know that she has options?

 _Just tell her_ , he told himself. _Stop being so damn afraid, and tell her_.

Sherlock turned back to see the dazed look on her face. Yes, he was going to tell her. "I forgot to mention that I'm…" he took a deep breath, noticing the anticipation in her eyes. "I'm completely in love with you." In that moment, time seemed to have stopped. His heart leapt to his throat, hoping against all hope that he hadn't just royally screwed up their friendship. He looked away, unable to watch her look at him with anything but love. He jolted back to reality at the touch of her hand. Swallowing hard, Sherlock searched her eyes for her unspoken answer.

"I've never stopped loving you, Sherlock Holmes." The words she spoke mended his heart in that moment, sewing the reopened sutures back together with her gentle precision. However, he realised, although she felt the same, it didn't mean she was going to choose him. He felt the need to put all of his cards on the table.

"Don't marry him, Molly. It's selfish of me to say, but I have to try." Sherlock mentally kicked himself for his selfish request. "I know I'm an egotistical arse, and I'm an insufferable fool, but damn it all, I love you. How could I not? You taught me how to love."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Sherlock." She spoke his name with such sweet conviction, drawing nearer to him, finally enveloping him in her arms. Automatically, he reciprocated, holding on to her for dear life, his head resting on top of hers. "I'd kiss you, but I need to settle some things first." Her words elicited a sigh of relief from him, his shoulders loosening from the tension. Sherlock could finally melt into her the way he wanted.

When they pulled apart, both longed to come together once more, but there would be time for that later. "Chips tomorrow night at my place?" he asked, hopefully.

"Sounds perfect," she smiled. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."


End file.
